


Volition

by Ro_Nordmann



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Faith of the Seven, Minor Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark, Modern Westeros, No Incest, Protective Robb Stark, Quote Prompt #7, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Soulmates, Tumblr Prompt, mention of Cersei but no incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21952765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro_Nordmann/pseuds/Ro_Nordmann
Summary: Every single person in Westerosi land was bound to the laws of the Seven, the ones who’d set fate spinning and deposed all faiths and gods demanding payment by marking the Chosen, their living soul with the trinity of tributes. These tributes would then join two perfect pairs of a whole, demanded by all of the facets of the commanding deity and its many faces:Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, and the Stranger.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 18
Kudos: 84





	Volition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miss_universe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_universe/gifts).



> “ _I am not what happened to me. I am who I choose to become_.”
> 
> — **Carl Jung**
> 
>   
> Soulmate/Modern AU | @missxuniverse
> 
> QUOTE PROMPT | TUMBLR

**________________________________________________________**

**VOLITION**

**________________________________________________________**

  
  


Every single person in Westerosi land was bound to the laws of the Seven, the ones who’d set fate spinning and deposed all faiths and gods demanding payment by marking the Chosen, their living soul with the trinity of tributes. These tributes would then join two perfect pairs of a whole, demanded by all of the facets of the commanding deity and its many faces: _Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, and Stranger_. 

Jaime Lannister knew what awaited him, a sure death by the Stranger himself. At the ripe age of thirty-four years old, the clock was ticking by and no sign of his counterpart. If he didn’t find his soul match, his life-force would be extinguished and reincarnated in the never-ending cycle of existence. He suspected it must have happened more than once, his soul making the same mistake of missing his one true salvation. Nothing could fill the mounting need gnawing within him. Meaningless sex and drugs were temporary fixes that only contributed to his eternal ennui. 

He tried to gorge himself on every type of pleasure with anyone willing to share it with him, despite scorn from the society that played into the gods whims directly their miserable lives. But alas, no being alive, woman or man could quiet his yearning, his rage and his scorching lust for the elusive soul that belonged with his own.

Legend said it was written in the _Book of Life_ , saved by the Crone in her Tower. No one was privy to its secrets, not even the Citadel and its vast collection of books of ancient times, recordings of Westeros’ most great past and unfortunate crimes. The end of the dynasties had been a triumph gained by the common people to establish equality and allowing for the establishment of the Seven has the reign of the gods over every man, woman and child to abide to their most sacred laws, accepting the Sacrifice—never again will there be a sole soul complete, each one split in two, destined to search for its half and find completion and give life back to the One; failure will end with a tribute to the Stranger who’ll bring you back to the beginning, to start once more…an endless cycle of servitude.

Jaime stared at his likeness in the mirror: golden hair cut short, beard left to grow, only a mere scruff that his father would sneer at, but his eyes…one green eye, and the other the most breathtaking shade of blue. One of the soulmate tributes, his heterochromia determined that his other half had a blue eye and one green eye, just like him. Once their gazes met, their eyes will match.

His other tribute, on his right wrist inked on his skin, an unfinished sunburst with the word “light” in script. If legend was correct, his unfinished tattoo would be completed in the presence of his one true love. He’d kissed and touched enough of the high society of Westeros for this to have already happened. He’d been toying with the idea of having it permanently removed, not caring for the supposed repercussions from the Seven if he defied their sacred decrees on their playthings.

Jaime was a Lannister and as a Lion, he’d bow to no one. It made him be feared and coveted by those around him, only fueling his effervescent need to hunt and conquer the beast living within his chest.

The last tribute and most dangerous, was the debt to be paid in full to the One. Once eyes meet, hands touch, the pair must mate within the first 48 chimes of the time clock. If the union of souls remains unconsummated, the soul mates will perish and be returned to the endless abyss of souls to once more be torn and reclaimed in a new bodies. Nothing was ever to be wasted in the eyes of the Seven. 

“Let it pass me by. I’ll face the Stranger happily, for surely it’s not the first time, for the god must miss me already.”

* * *

Brienne Tarth hadn’t been blessed with beauty or intellect to charm and gain notoriety within her social circle of so-called friends. Her father’s status was the only reason any of these people would even speak with her in the first place. In spite of Tarth’s independence from the rest of Westeros, it had conserved a sense of tradition that allowed Selwyn Tarth to become the acting governor of the Sapphire Isle and its surrounding waters. 

It had been expected that his daughter would possess some acumen to rule next in line, but she wasn’t well-liked and lacked the charisma to ensnare the citizens of Tarth. Her only remaining role was to honor the Seven and bring forth the heir of the Tarth family, traditionally called the Evenstar. In order to fulfill it, Brienne would have to leave her island and explore the lands of Westeros and find her other half, the one that matched the forest-green of her eye, the word “me” with the raw outline of an animal head.

She’d searched in her father’s library for sigils and house’s words, but hadn’t come close to deciphering the exact one that could indicate the origins of her match dictated by the gods. She’d consulted with the maester, as it appeared that her marking started to redden suddenly at her twenty-first nameday.

The man had searched the scripture and found not much information to offer. He’d taken her left wrist and put a salve to calm the skin and found that the inked marking had changed.

“My dear Brienne, it would seem that soon you’ll meet your mate. Isn’t it exciting? You’ll find your destiny soon enough. Maybe he’ll come here, in his quest to finding you…ending your solitude. Don’t fret anymore, my child. Pray for the Mother and the Maiden, they will listen to your pleas and easy your aching soul. It shall end and you’ll be delivered. Tarth will have a new Evenstar.”

It didn’t happen then, nor ten years later. It was her upcoming thirty-four nameday and Brienne was done with prophetic dream-readings, salves and waiting. Her time was about to run out and she’d be returned to where it all began, to the primordial soup of souls to be converted and reused. Maybe the next time, her soul would be graced with an alluring beauty, capable of finding love many times over, while searching for the one that will end it all.

Brienne envied the ones “cursed” to live only once and not be paired into godly-divined soul matching. These beings were able to choose whomever they wanted. They could breed if they wanted to, always in ratio that had been decreed in the laws of the Seven, never more. Their lifespans were not subjected to be extinct by their thirty-five nameday. It wasn’t uncommon for the cursed to live to sixty and have plenty to be grateful. They were the minority, but how she would prefer to have been granted the freedom to choose and be unmarked.

Her father knocked on her door and entered without waiting for permission. She was ready with her bags packed and her goodbyes said and done. There was nothing left holding her back, only the reminiscing of a life of regrets and painful recollections. 

“You know why this is necessary. You’re my Sun, Brienne. You must live beyond this…you find him, claim him and be as one. You must accept your destiny. You will not accept defeat yet. I’m thankful that our friends of the North will give you shelter and guide you on this journey. Don’t stray…Storm’s End is not in your path. He has found his one, even he quieted your anguish for a time. He would’ve never been able to heal your need. A Stag can’t hold the strength of the Sun.”

Brienne turned back to face her loving father, “You hope that a Wolf from the North will claim me, complete my mark. But what if it isn’t the head of a wolf? I will obey your command, as a dutiful daughter, and mind Mrs. Catelyn Stark’s wisdom. Let’s hope your inkling is correct and I find as I walk the halls of Winterfell. Love you, Dad.”

Selwyn leaned his forehead on her head and prayed to the Mother, to protect her, to the Maiden, to guide her and to the Crone, to give her wisdom and patience in her quest. His lips kissed her skin and his hands cupped her face, “Don’t despair, my Sun. You’ll be bright soon enough and he’ll be blind if he can’t see you from afar. May he drop to his knees in your presence and not be able to utter one word of hate never again, humbled in your true beauty, for your heart is true like no other. You’ll be the one that heals this man, wretched he may be, but you’ll complete him and find your purpose. This purpose you have fought all your life, may you hold it in your arms and feel it nuzzling your breast. I don’t regret finding my soul in your mother, even if the One took her from me. The gods left me you. We all have a plan to complete. Now, go my darling Brienne. Don’t forget to call, even leave me a message. Your voice will be enough to keep me alive.”

It was her turn to kiss her father’s cheek and hold in the tears welling in her eyes. She will miss him and his calming strength. He’d been all she had, no mother to cuddle her at night, give her advice and teach her about womanhood. Life had been cruel to her and now she’d be facing the unknown without her rock, the Evenstar would stay behind and protect his people.

“Remember, ‘ _First Light in the Darkness_ ’ you’re the beacon that guides the ones lost. Forever the Sun with the Moon to guide them back to safety. Until we meet again.”

* * *

Winterfell unbeknownst to Jaime and Brienne was the place the fates had deemed their meeting site. Both traveled there, to the frigid North, with different goals in mind. Jaime had given up on ever finding whatever would overflow his gaping void only growing more deep within. 

He’d been sent by his father to settle old debts and procure a new agreement between Starks Ltd. and Lannister Enterprises, to unite the Westerlands and keep the peace with the Riverlands, since Catelyn Stark, formerly Tully, it was her family still holding their ancestral lands. He hated being his father’s lapdog, to do his dirty work and have to be charming to lesser folk. His father was too busy at the moment, having to secure his twin sister’s rehab for a third time and keep his fourth wife happy, while safekeeping the family’s estate and riches. All taxing and irrelevant to Jaime, as he’d take no part in prolonging the family’s scandalous legacy. He was simply biding his time, as the respite was closer and he’d be freed from the monotony of his futile life.

At least Jaime was grateful for the lack of pandering from the Starks. He was treated with no special treatment. He wasn’t the only visitor in Winterfell, which surprised him, for who would willing subject themselves to the Northerners' austerity and coldness. Only it appeared this person was in a better position than himself, having the favor of the horde of children the Stark patriarch had spawned on his dour wife. He had not met the mysterious guest yet.

“Would that be all, Mr. Lannister? The family will expect your presence in the Great Hall at supper time. Everyone is expected to attend. Tonight's celebration of their eldest daughter’s betrothal to her Chosen by the Seven, a true blessing as you can imagine, for one so young to have found her other half.”

His response was noncommittal, hoping to skip the shindig all together and find entertainment somewhere more fitting. It was times like these that he missed his younger brother, mourning him more than ever. It wasn’t fair that the gods willfully had taken the only person who’d truly shown him any love. Once left to his solitude, Jaime picked his mobile and dialled his father, as requested. With a few words, he was dismissed like always. The plan still stood and he was expected to deliver the signature of the distinguished and respected, Ned Stark. Time got away from him, as he had closed his eyes only for a few minutes, only waking to the knocking of the servant sent to remind him of the impending celebration in Winterfell. There was no escaping now.

* * *

“Brienne! Brienne! Come you must help me choose my dress. Mother had commissioned three from which to choose the one I’ll wear tonight. I know that Theon won’t care as long as I kiss him tonight. He misses me so much. I didn’t believe the stories from my childhood, as Nan would describe how souls are split by the gods and sent to the woman's womb, for the pair of souls to find each other and be finally complete. How it’s impossible to resist the pull, how you must submit and accept the perfection. Oh, Brienne...it is true, for he is my soulmate and I never want to part from him. I didn’t know how empty life had been before we touched and how our tributes only binds us together. I pray you’ll meet yours...you must forget the past. I have and I don’t regret it. Renly is happy with his one, even if what was deemed by the gods baffles society and his own family. Loras is his mate. I confess his own sister, Margaery, had her eyes set on me, but I now know it wasn’t meant to be. This is my destiny and I wish for you to find happiness, Brienne. Be patient. It isn’t over yet and there will be many present tonight. May you meet the One meant for you, to heal your wounded soul and your light heal him.”

Brienne held her tears, feelings overwhelming her at the heartfelt words of her friend. Sansa was too young to understand. She’d been blessed by the Seven and at only the age of eighteen had found her true match, not having to wander for decades if death would simply come and end her suffering. She kissed the young woman’s head and left without another word. Pain consumed her chest, something uncontrollable from within her. She feared that her time was up and there was nothing more to be done. She walked through the halls, her hands touching the rocks that made up the structure of the Starks’ ancestral home, wondering if many before her had despair as she was. It was no secret that Lyanna Stark, Ned’s sister had endured greatly for love, that ended in tragedy, leaving her only son an orphan to be fostered by closest living relatives.

A voice...a man’s voice stopped her. She knew that voice, it called to her. She closed her eyes and could see green eyes staring back at her, a genuine smile from a face she couldn’t really see. Her hands started to shake and she felt lightheaded, her vision blurry with flashes of light causing her to almost faint. Her hands found purchase on the rough walls of the castle, recurring to deep breaths. This shall pass. Just breathe. She kept the mantra going and felt slightly calmer. She couldn’t hear the voice anymore, only an ache left behind as a reminder of it all. And that’s when the oldest of the Starks’ children found her.

“Brienne! Sansa sent me to find you! She’s most worried, by the way you left her room. She is sorry if she offended you and demanded I return you to her immediately. But you don’t have to go this very moment...Is there anything I can do for you, Brienne?”

Robb Stark was handsome, a perfect mixture of his parents good looks, with his mother’s Tully blue eyes and a hint of auburn in his luscious hair, his square jaw and masculinity was all Ned’s. For the first time in her life, Brienne wished she could love anyone, to someone like this young man, who clearly was tender-hearted would surely find something worthy in her, even with her lackluster exterior. She let him take her hand, finding nothing stir within and feeling disappointed. She surely had to be defective and her soulmate long dead, leaving her to most assured destruction. No, the gods would not allow her to know what a woman feels at the hands of a loving man, even if they weren’t meant to be one.

“Thank you, Robb. I think I got lost...this place is so big, much bigger than Evenfall. I’ve never been beyond Storm’s End. I’m most grateful for your mother’s invitation. Sansa is my only friend outside of Tarth. I would like to call you my friend as well. As for Arya, I think she is much too young to understand, I could never take her sister’s love from her. She is a jealous creature, don’t you think? Bran, I can see will need a kindred spirit soon enough, that can read his mind without uttering a word...I will pray the gods be merciful and not keep him waiting long. Rickon, the baby of this brood, he for sure will give your parents gray hairs—”

“What about me, Brienne? Am I only to be your friend? Let me show you—”

The screams of the younger siblings could be heard in every corner of Winterfell and the scolding thereafter from a very upset, Mrs. Stark. Both young ones were sent to their rooms without supper to the chagrin of the bride-to-be. Sansa desired for her whole family to be part of the momentous occasion. Robb chuckled and shoved his best friends in the shoulder, having moved away from Brienne to jostle and joke with the groom.

“You have already taken her, Theon. There’s no hiding it, if not by that constant smirk on your face. You better not get her knocked up before the ceremony in a month, or my father will surely castrate you. Keep it you pants tonight at least...or your pheromones might makes us all animals in heat. Who knows what will happen if Lannister gets a whiff and decides to take the nearest prey.”

His azure gaze found Brienne and she once again wished that his color had corresponded with her tribute, but heterochromia wasn’t one of his soulmarks. Most had at least three tributes, the rarest of cases had four or five markings that sealed the pact made long ago in the heavens. No man shall ever be able to come between such a union. Her mind once more remembered Lyanna Stark and her untimely death. Robert Baratheon had decided that sacrilege was worth his life and the one he coveted, even though her soul was meant for Rhaegar Targaryen. The very same, that had enamored a young woman from the Westerlands at first sight, driving her to madness and despair, Cersei Lannister.

“Lannister? Is the infamous Lion of the Rock within these walls? He’s too old to do much. His time is almost up. You better stay close to Brienne then, Robb. Protect her virtue from that hedonistic lech, his reputation precedes him wherever he shows his attractive face. It is said women and men alike desire him. I’m most thankful that I’ve found my Sansa. If you hadn’t brought home—”

Sansa jumped on Theon’s arms stopping his declaration of love and stealing a passionate kiss right in front of her siblings and her friend.

“ENOUGH! Everyone to the dining room. Catelyn see to Arya and Rickon. I’ll keep the peace while we wait for your return. Sansa, please remember you’re still my daughter and must abide to decorum under my roof. I apologize, Ms. Tarth, my children grow more wild each day against our wishes...I fear what the gods have in store for us, in Arya and her mate, in Rickon and his future bride, may they be suited and appeased once the fates finally join them. Let’s rejoice and celebrate, my Sansa and her Theon!”

* * *

The dinner had been served, and copious amounts of wine and ale consumed. The merriment was in the air and Brienne didn’t have to pretend to feel content. Sansa beamed, as her mate kissed her cheek and held her hand demanding another dance. She wanted to feel wanted, and by the eyes of Robb on her, she could be, but it wasn’t enough. She didn’t know if Sansa had asked her brother to be attentive. She didn’t want anyone’s pity, so she resisted the inclination to indulge him and encourage his intentions. 

A vacant seat right across from hers, beckoned her attention every few minutes. Why had the guest of ill-repute had slighted the Starks? Wasn’t it supposed to be great opportunity to ingratiate himself with the family and serve his family in the end? She’d heard briefly that Jaime Lannister had been sent by the head of the Lannister Enterprises, Tywin Lannister. It was beneficial for both families to keep the peace and unite the Tullys, assuring the economic stability of the West and the North. The South was already in Tywin’s pockets as he had paid in full for the Prime Minister’s seat and favoritism of the Small Council of Westeros.

Where was Jaime Lannister? Had he found some unsuspecting maiden to deflower and discard afterwards? 

Brienne found him already a despicable specimen and wished to spared from meeting him. And just like that, the doors slammed open and in strode...the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. Golden hair that shined in the candlelight, requisite asked by Sansa’s romantic nature. He was tall, the tallest of all in the room except for her. He was wearing a dark suit, with a red silk tie and dress shoes. Jaime Lannister wasn’t a young man of twenty trying to woo her with kind gestures and promises of pleasure to be had...he was a grown-man, experienced and jaded. With eyes...oh, by the Seven. One forest-green eye found hers and her breath seized in her chest, as her heart began to pound. One tribute...her eyes burned and she closed them in pain. She heard his grunt and the gasps around the room.

_It can’t be._

_Not him._

_Oh, Mother please…_

With hesitation, Brienne opened her eyes and found him glaring at her, sneering with disgust. His hands in fists at his sides, as he tried to control his breathing. It was clear to all that their eyes no longer reflected different colors. They had finally found the corresponding color, matched, hers the blues of the waters of Tarth, while his lush grass of his homeland in Spring. 

Jaime glowered in silence, fuming over the impertinence of this...beast. How fitting for the gods to have befitted him to this...woman. He had gotten distracted by the mouth that had served him just twenty minutes ago. The serving girl had been willing to bestow him with it and he wasn’t going to deprive himself. It only had made even more late to the party and now this...atrocity. He’d been ready to accept his death in months’ time. What god had decided this to be the One for him? The Crone surely had a sense of humor and found it endearing to join the beautiful with the horrendous, all in the service of her divine wisdom. 

_Fuck off, old witch!_

His palms started to sweat and he felt as if his body was rebelling against him. It wanted him to get closer...to touch the apple of her cheek and his her brow. 

_Fuck._

He could resist. It had to be done. No gods, no fate would determine his ending. This wasn’t their story to tell. 

_Fuck the gods and their meddling ways! May they take everything else, leave me my freedom, let me die with the Stranger at my side on my thirty-fifth year._

Brienne stood abruptly from her chair, making it drop back and clatter against the floor. She apologized and evaded the man’s stare, as she thanked Catelyn and Sansa and tried to drag her feet away from _him_. 

“Where do you think you’re going, wench? You realize that if you take one more step...I won’t be held responsible for my following actions. All here can see what you are to me, what I am to you. Do you feel it? The black hole inside you, wanting but never satisfied. Let me be satiated once in my life and I will leave you be. I have no interest in living beyond the months I have left. Surely, you feel the same...Brienne.”

Robb stood immediately in retaliation for Jaime’s words, but Ned and Theon held him back. Sansa tried to hold her tears and went to her friend.

“He doesn’t mean it, Brienne. You are the light...let him see it, feel it and he won’t be able to resist. You’re his mate, the one who completes him. You’re both resisting the inevitable and I won’t let you succumb to the pain of not letting the touch happen tonight. If more than that happens, let it. The gods will bless you. You’ve waited long enough, my dear friend. Don’t fear rejection. He’s not Renly. He’s not any other man in your past, that has found you lacking. Let your soul find its counterpart, its darkness. He is broken without you. He may be a lion, but a wounded one. He needs his bright lioness to claim him and soothe his ailing. Tomorrow if you want to stand with him at the Weirwood, I will be beside you. Now, go Brienne. You’re brave and never back down from a fight. This is the fight of your life.”

Sansa squeezed her hands and kiss her cheek. Brienne could sense that her body was attuned to him, even without her acquiescence. He had invaded her senses, Jaime Lannister was all she could see, smell and taste. His voice… that was the voice she had heard earlier. Her hand found her tattoo, feeling the skin and looking for any changes. Nothing. The touch was required for the words to be complete. The animal head was that of a lion, not a wolf or a bear; never to be confused with a stag. His green stare found her long fingers gracing over her skin, as his own found his own finger tracing over the only word imprinted there. Both were wondering what the final words would mean to each other, fearing the consequences of their combined warmths crashing...heat coiled in his belly. No temporary fix could assuage his all-consuming need. 

_Fuck the seven hells!_

Was he really considering taking his beast and fucking her to oblivion? With arrogance he smirked bemused at the young Stark’s outrage. It would seem that Ned had a son with a compassionate heart, a willing companion to their unalluring guest. A pity fuck more like. 

“Too bad, kid. Looks like I’m stuck with it. I got the short stick in the lottery at birth. Please excuse me, but I think I need to speak with the...lady. Alone. You may continue to rejoice in your soon-to-be matrimonial bliss, Sansa and Theon. May the Seven grant you a fruitful union, as your parents have been. I will see you in the morning, Ned. I hope we can settle our affairs, so that I may return to Casterly Rock, in two days at the most. I believe we have a clock ticking against us, wench.”

“Her name is Brienne. Call her by her name, sir. She deserves respect and a much better match than you...but as you’ve stated. Time is not on your side and I don’t wish the pain of aborted match on my friend. You may leave, Mr. Lannister. Don’t forget who leaves with you…”

Sansa had dismissed him, the epitome of class and sophistication that exemplified her mother perfectly. He could see the pride in her mother’s eyes, as she had spoken for her friend. While Ned held back his oldest son from punching his teeth into his skull. Brave and foolish that one, but he will find his downfall soon enough. We all do, Jaime had fucking stumbled into his...a tall, broad-chested, ugly looking female...who’d now possessed the blue eyes of his dreams. The pools of serenity, in which he would drown himself in and finally find peace, as everything else didn’t matter there. And the voice that would sing to him…

“Are you mute? Do you speak at all? They’ve all defends you against the beast that bites at your feet. Are you truly a damsel in need of rescuing from this fiend?”

An unknown force drove forth and Brienne found herself staring face-to-face with her tormentor. Their breaths mingled together, as their eyes were beacons to their souls, demanding more...always more. A tingle stroke them simultaneously, the urge grows stronger to get closer and let their fates collide.

“I can speak for myself, Mr. Lannister. You should remember we’re both guests of the Starks...for different reasons. You should be mindful of your...manners. I would besiege you to desist your boorish conduct and let this family continue with their festivities. We can speak elsewhere and come to an understanding.”

Yes, that voice...singing him to sleep in his dreams. So fleeting and bewitching. It wasn’t fair to hold such seduction in that body. 

_Cruel fates and mocking gods_.

This was the pickle. The defining moment of give and take. They both had a choice to make and afterwards there was no returns, no what ifs. It had to be out of their own _volition_.

* * *

Distracted by their own musings, Brienne tripped over her own feet causing for Jaime to react and hold her back. Skin against skin, burst of energy flowing and intertwining, a ghostly slash scribbled and scribbled, leaving behind the second tribute achieved. The words were complete in their wrists...fingers traced the aching skin, the tattoo in dark ink. They were powerless to stop it, and now they had to face the third tribute.

His arms held closer, his nose leaning close to her ear, while his lips grazed her neck. She felt good in his grip, strong and his. A lessening building and hope taking over his derision and self-doubt. He wasn’t Cersei. No, Jaime wasn’t the one with the diagnosis of histrionic personality and bipolar disorder, that subjected his twin to a half-life with a fake, lost soulmate and a recurring addiction that would never quiet the inner-voice of the impending death. 

Whispering in her ear, “What does it say, wench? Does it say ‘Hear me roar’ as my family’s motto? Do you have a lion’s head on your wrist? Let me see it, Brienne!” His mouth found its way closer to her neck, wanting to touch her skin, inch by inch. 

Was this his choice anymore? Or was he a puppet of kismet and the gods? A mummer’s farce to entertain those that had deemed worthy to be reborn and find each other one day, to make more selfish fucks searching, always searching and found wanting until…

“ _There are no men like me. There's only me.”_

Just like he had imagined, the one that was meant to him was adorned with a lion’s head, so much like his house’s sigil, the very same that was engraved on his father’s signet ring.

_Mine_. 

_No else would claim his lioness_. 

He’d been soiled, unworthy of such...light. His eyes found his wrist and there it was the words: _First Light in the Darkness_. The sunburst and now a crescent moon adorned the beginning and the end of the phrase. All were symbols of the house of Tarth and the words… 

Her hand found his wrist and her gasp let him know she had _seen_. 

“It’s really _you_. Oh, gods…We’ve barely touched and I can feel what you feel. So much pain, you’ve carried—Mr. Lannister.”

It bizarre to feel another beside his own encompassing misery. He was flooded with the rejection, the self-hate and self-doubt that had been her whole life’s companions. 

_No more my Light...my Sun._

“Jaime. My name is Jaime, wench.”

He didn’t have to ask if it annoyed her, his nickname for her. No one would be allowed to belittle ever again. Only him would jest at her expense, but never with the object to destroy her fragile psyche. 

_Oh, my Brienne how you yearn for the one...I’m right here_.

“You know this means we have another tribute...one we wouldn’t have known unless—”

His hand traced the lion on the inside of her wrist, brimming with pride. He’d claimed her already. Not being left behind, Brienne scratched at the sun. 

“Do you know these words? What they mean to me?” 

Jaime shook his head, not really caring much about talking and wanting...always wanting. His need was taking over reason and time made itself known. They couldn’t dawdle, it would end with the mutual demise. His teeth nibbled on her earlobe, causing her to feel butterflies in her stomach and a warmth bloom.

“Those are the words of my house...my father recites them to me everyday and calls me his—”

“ _My Sun_. Now, you’re my Sun. He must share the light with his good-son, wench. I hope you have enough for the both of us and the children I’ll give you. You will never feel unfeminine and unmotherly while I draw breath.”

With little effort, Jaime turned her face and stole his first kiss with his match, causing a chain reaction of confusion and happenstance; their hearts synced as one. All this meant another tribute, their lives were bound together from this moment until the Stranger took them to the primordial origin of life, where all must return the One found appeasement at last.

“What have you done to me, Brienne? Your eyes...your words marking me...you giving me your soul...your heart beating with mine. Four tributes are very rare and a clear sign that more than of the Seven wanted this—us. Can’t imagine what will happen once I claim you and become one with you, it’s almost unbearable to resist and I don’t plan to die in the motherfucking North with Ned Stark giving my pathetic eulogy with not much sympathy. Let me live for the very first time...for I feel that you’ve given a second chance, wench. Can’t you feel the electricity? Will you give, as I give back?” 

* * *

Brienne felt him, it was as if she could read his thoughts, his past misdeeds and everything in between. Her soulmatch wasn’t a good man, but there was always room to grow. Her father had taught her that morals, good and evil, were guides for imperfect people and the measurement of person was the most hidden treasure within their hearts. Jaime had voiced his pain in every disdain, with every vacant encounter with a stranger, the void had taken hold of his dark soul. He needed a light to enter the dark tunnel that imprisoned him and clouded his potential for more, to shine with her at his side.

She wanted to let go of the fears and insecurities, to accept what the gods had granted her, even if it had taken most of her adult life to find her by luck. If she hadn’t left Tarth...she’d be dead with no prospects of ever meeting Jaime. Her heart constricted with pain at the thought and she felt his countereaction. She tried to disengage his embrace, but he protested emphatically. 

“No—Stop it, Brienne. Enough! You’ve waited long enough. I’ve waited long enough, don’t deprive of your warmth. I won’t hurt you. I can’t...it’d be like harming both of us. The mocking gods have made it practically impossible to divide us now...there’s just surrender. You must out of your own volition, for I won’t force you. But you must know—

If we don’t have sex, the tribute will consume us. Forty-eight hours are conceded for the act, the more you resist, the more painful and sick we’ll become...Do you want to see me deathly ill for your stubbornness?”

Mocking gods and prophetic warnings had taken over their lives with the meeting of mismatched eyes, like a lightning bolt struck them down and maybe they were in the seven hells and were in denial of their end.

“It feels forced...You don’t find me attractive and now you have to commit to the duty of having the rest of your life beside...a plain, ugly woman. You could have anyone and probably have been with many. I-I don’t have experience. I can’t please you—don’t know where to start, J-Jaime. Maybe it would be timely for me to accept that I wasn’t meant to be someone’s mate and experience motherhood—”

Bruising kisses stopped her infuriating tirade, as his hands cupped her face and he made her face him.

“You’re too late, wench. There’s no turning back the hourglass, nothing will stop the sand. Are you willing to condemn to die with you? Am I so wretched and unlovable? Too used and dirty for you to find a speck of redemption for my abysmal pit of existence? Thirty-four years...just at the very end of our lifetimes, both of us were ready to give up. Fucking Seven and their tributes...what does it all mean? I can’t explain it. But just having you in my arms can be salve to my rotting wounds. I won’t deny my darkness in comparison to your pure sunlight. On my knees...Brienne, I beg you to be the Light to my Darkness. There’s only me and I need you.”

* * *

Brienne stared out the only window in the room, the sunrise announcing the start of a new day, a new beginning. She wasn’t alone, right beside her slept a man. His dreams calm for the very first time since he was babe and his twin hadn’t disturbed him yet. They had spoken so much in so little time, all about what it meant to be the heir, Lion of the Rock, the responsibilities and demands from his overbearing father. How his twin had found insanity so early in life, ending in tragedy after tragedy, chasing a ghost that had never lived for her. The emptiness and the frivolity of his days, the never ending boredom of privilege and banality. Jaime had acknowledged that even if they were surely opposites of a whole, there must be divine wisdom in their joining.

With the light inundating the space, his hair was brighter, his skin gloriously tanned, with his eyes closed, Jaime Lannister appeared rejuvenated, so much younger than the night before. With light touches, Brienne brushed the lion carved on her skin, a brand that she’d hated most of her life, now a badge of honor, a testament to what had taken place in mere hours...only hours. 

_Oh Mother, may you grant me the strength to keep him._

Even with everything that had befallen them, Brienne didn’t believe it. Having been the victim of vicious pranks, she was wary of any unsolicited attention from male strangers. As of last night, her Jaime was a stranger no longer. In the eyes of the Seven, she’d given him something—her innocence. She’d be his Sun for the rest of their days, but their mating was all about letting go of the past and accepting the path in front of her. It came with a great burden on them both, having been physically stitched, hearts beating as one.

Jaime wanted all of her, to possess her completely. He couldn’t hide it from her. It was solely her choice to give in, to let him come take her. Only he’d been right to say that it was a mutual giving, an exchange that ended up being absolutely satisfying.

Their clothes were scattered all over the floor, mostly still wet. Just remembering his suggestion…

> _Let’s take a bath, wench. It will relax us and you’ll feel better. Nothing has to happen. You’ll let me know when you’re ready. I won’t—I swear, if all I want is to consume you, taste every inch of you—I’ll wait_.

With the fog of steam and the fervor running through their veins, Brienne had taken over and shocked him into submission. Her hands guided his touch, making him the apprentice in how to worship her. His lips savored every sigh coming from her own. It was slow burning, taking them toward a crescendo, in waves. Their eyes glowed in unison as one when his seed took root within her womb. If seed would grow, only the Mother knew. He’d been embarrassed for coming inside her, but she’d assuaged his distress. With unparalleled skill and persuasion, Brienne had swindle the most coveted bachelor of the Westerlands into meeting her father and getting his blessing. She’d promised him they’d be going to her room and having another round.

He’d been finally exhausted in the wee hours of the morning. She’d been too wired to sleep instead. She found herself truly praying to each and every facet of the One: _For I’ve been blessed with a new life, I’m grateful. Let me be the First Light in the Darkness, for there’s only him and he’s mine, as I am his. From this day until the last of our days._

* * *

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to miss_universe for once again giving me her prompt! She says I have galaxy brain... and I think that's one of the best compliments I've ever gotten for writing (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و
> 
> M E R R Y C H R I S T M A S!


End file.
